A Firefly's Glow

Chapter Eleven: Part Three

Amanatsu’s exuberant shade of caramel that colored the hair that hung over his forehead gleamed in the sunlight. His sister, Mikan, hastily followed after Amanatsu as he jogged towards us. Keita and I paused in place.

But as Amanatsu turned his gaze from me to Keita, his welcoming smile morphed into a firm, blank line.

“Hanabusa-kun!” Mikan materialized beside Amanatsu with a simple wave of her arm. “Did you finish Haru’s math assignment?”

“Yes.”

Mikan bent her mouth into an expressed smile. “Can I copy your—“

“No.”

And as fast as he had answered Mikan, he wobbled away from us and off into another direction.

Mikan let out a crestfallen moan. “No one will help me with my homework.”

“You didn’t ask for help.” Amanatsu informed. “You asked to copy. That’s cheating.”

Mikan shot Amanatsu a sharpened glare. “Don’t sass me! You didn’t do your homework either!”

Before Amanatsu had a chance to retort to his exuberantly active sister, she whipped herself into the direction Keita had wobbled down and she immediately rushed out of sight.

Amanatsu turned towards me with his smile rising back onto his face. “You’re a first year, right?”

I nodded, turning away from the distant figures of Keita and Mikan. “Megane gave me my schedule, but I don’t know how to read it.”

“Well let’s see it then.”

I lifted my briefcase onto my knees and stuck my hand into the newly polished leather. When I felt the roughness of paper, I yanked it out of the briefcase and held it in my hands. It wasn’t exactly as perfect as it was when I had received it. Mild wrinkles dented the corners and edges of the cream colored parchment, but the letters inked onto the paper were still readable.

Well—not readable to me.

Scribbled onto the paper were several unreadable signatures and various circles around selections. The only thing I recognized was my name printed in flawless calligraphy near the top of the paper, and even that was almost as hard to read as the rest of the inked words.

Amanatsu lifted the paper out of my hands and skipped his honey-colored eyes through the paper in simplicity.

“Cool, you’re in my class.”

I peered over Amanatsu’s shoulder, leaning over him and trying to get a glimpse of the parchment. “Where does it say that?” I chirped happily in relief.

Amanatsu scrolled a pointed finger towards a mess of perfect calligraphy and I squinted my eyes at the ink and attempted to inch closer when Amanatsu began to stumble forward.

“Hotaru, you’re hurting my back.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” I threw myself off of Amanatsu with the peculiar color rising onto my face.

Amanatsu shifted the paper to my eyes and kept his finger on the unreadable scribble of ink. “It says Grade 1-Divison C.”

I peered at the ink and raised an eyebrow. “The C looks like an octopus.”

“That’s a good way to describe it,” Amanatsu turned the paper back towards his eyes and began repeatedly skimming through the paper. “So you’re taking Theatre for your elective?”

“I am?” I leaned involuntarily over Amanatsu’s shoulder to peer at the parchment. “I didn’t know that!”

“You didn’t?”

“No! I can’t act!”

My eyes widened at the sight of the exaggeratedly swirled T in Theatre that was scribbled onto the parchment.

Back at the public school—in the middle school division, that is—my class was always chosen to perform a play for the entire school. It wasn’t terrifying unless I was in the play myself.

During this one particular play, I had played a talking tree. (Don’t blame me—ask the genius who wrote the story.) And even though all I had to do was stand in one place—and I only had two lines, I was absolutely terrified of the hundreds of eyes staring back at mine expecting entertainment.

So I shook in place because of nervousness and no matter how many times I tried to calm down, I couldn’t stand completely still. The leaves placed upon my head as a wig immediately slipped off and onto the floor. Since all of my hair was tucked underneath the brown uniform I was wearing, and the only thing that it revealed was my face, I looked a lot like a bald chocolate man.

And even though this particular play was supposed to be a tragedy, every time I had to stand on the stage as the tree, there would be laughter even though the other characters were dramatically screaming at each other.

And to top it all off, I was instructed to stand in the form similar to the German Nazi symbol, so I looked a lot like a bald, chocolate covered Egyptian.

“It’s not that hard, you know,” Amanatsu’s voice interrupted my terrifying flashback, and I turned my gaze towards his casual gaze as I stood back onto my feet.

“It’s not?”

“No. We have the craziest theatre instructor, so it’s pretty fun.”

“Amanatsu, you’re in that class?”

“Yeah.”

I gazed towards the feathery clouds that floated above my head through the skies in thought. Amanatsu would definitely make a way better bald, chocolate covered, talking Egyptian tree than I would have ever did.

I realized the relief that swam across my shoulders. But the question still lingered through my head.

Why was I signed up for Theatre?

I didn’t remember filling out any paperwork for the school. I didn’t even know how much the tuition bill for attending the school was.

My thoughts were interrupted by a loud chime that nearly sent me twenty feet into the air. Every chime rung a differed note, as if the chime was playing a sort of exaggeratedly loud melody.

I could have sworn I felt the ground shake, but Amanatsu and the students that surrounded me didn’t seem to jump at the noise as I did.

“Class is about to start,” Amanatsu shoved my schedule back into my hands and I felt his arm nudge me towards one of the various school buildings. “Good luck, okay?”

I gave Amanatsu a stiff nod as we headed into the building. I felt cool air rush into my face and I pursed my lips.

My first year at the exaggeratedly exclusive Seika Academy was just about to begin.